


Nobody Told You

by Demimonde_Pseudogoddess



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Petstuck, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4785449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demimonde_Pseudogoddess/pseuds/Demimonde_Pseudogoddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yet another Petstuck, inspired by UFUT and Loophole, though not in the same universe (largely to indulge my ships), Nobody Told You will be a relatively upbeat fanfiction about friendship, growing up, and love. Of course, there will hopefully be a few plot elements later, but as of right now there are only a few chapters explaining the initial setting and character relationships.<br/>We'll see, I suppose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gone

**Author's Note:**

> I'm afraid that of the four primary characters of this fic, I won't be writing any chapters from Nepeta's perspective, as I'm not very good at writing her. Sorry loves.
> 
> I also promise that at some point in the future chapters will be longer. Word makes them seem much longer than AO3 does. D:

Nobody told you that trolls wore clothes in the city. They especially didn’t tell you that when you got out of the spawning caverns and pupated you’d be grabbed by a pair of cold hands and packed off elsewhere. Nobody tells you anything. Mostly because until about two years ago, you didn’t really know what the hell the whole talking deal was about. It was all just noise. Noise and smells and sensations and god dammit this food makes you feel sick.

But things are better now. For one thing, you know that you’re wearing a cherry dress. For another you know that you’re only going to be on display for another hour, and then they’re required let you play in the troll-proofed back room. And for a third you know exactly who you’re going to spend it playing with; they keep you fenced off, but your small, slightly peppery (or metallic? Troll skin smells weird.) smelling hand is curled around her fingers curled around the bars of the fencing between the two of you. And you know that you should probably be sleeping too, but there’s someone outside whose hair smells like something that makes you really really hungry, and whose face smells really good, though for some reason you feel like it also looks kinda like the color of the food they give you every morning and evening…

The cage door opens. But it’s not mealtime or closing time. Why else would the cage door open? You bare your teeth at the face, edging away from the confusion a little though your hand doesn’t go away from the cage. Your reward is a minty-white smile surrounded by black cherry lips. You move to bite or claw at the hands that suddenly rise up out of your line of scent like sweet smelling pincers, but your claws have been filed down and only grant you a laugh.  
“What do you want?” A stunned silence greets you. Followed by another laugh, nervous from the shopkeep, a boy who smells sweet and sour all the time, and intrigued from the girl now cradling you in her arms, your hand, slightly scaly, gently removed from the cage.

“I didn’t know they could talk.” Says the face in front of you, still giving that minty, snowy, cold smile as you suddenly rise closer to the too-hot, burning smelling lights you’ve heard called fluorescent.

“She must be special. Guess the Corp didn’t know and stick with the normal price. We got a hefty discount since she was blind, though she seems to manage okay. And that was on top of the reduction for being reptilian. If you want a cheap little adventure, I bet she’s as good as you’re gonna get.”

You don’t add anything, glaring at the guy trying to sell you. You’re not helping him, and you don’t intend to make yourself look good, squirming in her hands and the dress despite being so damn _warm_ , your velociraptor like feet pressing against her belly in a way you hope is uncomfortable. Dammit, why can’t you just stay here and play with your only friend in the world?

To your dismay, the girl laughs again, stroking your back in a way that makes you huff, drawing in upon yourself away from the attempted affection. What does she know?

To your greater dismay, she says, “It’s gonna be okay, Terezi, my name’s Aradia, and we’re gonna be friends!” She sounds much more excited about this than you are, and you pout throughout the lengthy signing of documents and exchanging of money. The least she could’ve done is buy your friend too weren’t trolls supposed to be bought in pairs so they didn’t get lonely? You don’t know, nobody told you, but you think you might’ve heard that somewhere.


	2. Tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote these first two chapters at once, more and longer to come, I promise! QuQ

You walk into the pet store, brightly, fluorescently lit an hour before closing time, 11 pm. The logos emblazoned on most of these things are bright and cheery, depicting (apparently) happy, healthy, animals panting or playing, or otherwise just staring cutely at the photographer. As the 24 year old daughter of a wealthy corporate executive, and an apparent business genius (that is to say, the only thing people won’t let you decide is how much workers are paid. Then things get sticky.), you could use some of that in your life. You could also probably use some of the sleepiness that adorns the face of the worker behind the register, and most of the animals asleep in their cages despite the utter lack of anywhere comfortable to sleep in most of them. God, they’re cute. You want them all.

But you’re paying off student loans and living in a cozy three room apartment (Main room, bedroom, bathroom). You can’t afford to buy them all; no, not even if your mom would help you if you asked. For some reason she indulges you, even though you kind of loathe her for the almost inhuman conditions of certain workplaces. But never-mind that. Feferi Peixes is not here to remark nor really ponder her relationship with any of her family!   
Nay, you’ve come to purchase yourself a pick-me-up pet. It’s the first real frivolity of any sort you’ve allowed yourself in a while. Once you decided to get off Mom’s checkbooks, things got tight for a while, but now that you’ve landed your own job at the more reliable and humane Skaianet technologies, you’ve got some fun money. And you need some fucking company.

Company that doesn’t wear a suit or tie! So you’re here.

You’ve had lots of fish in your life, so you examine those first, but in all honesty they’re not the best conversational partners. Besides, there’s a fish tank in the office.   
You’re allergic to hamsters. Next.  
A rat would be cute, you think, but by the same token you aren’t really in the mood to feed anything any sort of insect (nor do you plan to be in the foreseeable future!). By that same token you pass up on the small lizards and other stuff like that.   
Bigger lizards and snakes are harder to pass up on, especially the exceptionally cute ball python, but at that particular moment your ear catches the tiniest of sobs you’d ever heard.

Nobody told you they carried trolls here. And nobody told whoever bought the other one here that you were supposed to buy trolls in pairs, apparently!  
With a disapproving huff, you bustle your tall, dark skinned, large-haired self over to the cage, beckoning the bored shopkeep with a practiced imperious wave.

The second he unlocks it, you know that someone, somewhere, really deserves to be stabbed. For one thing, they messed up the clothing on this little ball of unholy-mackerel levels of adorable lil’ gal, leaving her only wearing a green trenchcoat made for a troll at ‘adulthood’ (but you’ll rant about _that_ later…), even though it wears like a dress on her.   
You gently draw her into your hands, tiny fingers curling around your hand reflexively and weepy eyes looking up at you in a mix of confusion, mistrust, anger, and of course, fear. Her tail is a mutant blue, but much more noticeable to you than her furry legs, paws, and tail, is the defiant jut of her lip and the fact that she is very carefully digging her claws into your wrist as painfully as possible while they’re clipped.

“She’s _blind._ ” Is the first thing she says, when you give her an apologetic look. She must be assuming you took her friend.   
“Huh, they can both talk. I’d better tell the Crockercorp guys to check more thoroughly next-.” “ _Hsht!”_

You silence him with a glare, and then smile sweetly. “Don’t worry about telling Crockercorp, dear. I’ll just let them know how you _extorted_ them tomorrow when I talk to my mom.” On cue, you pull out an old Crockercorp business card. You’d thought it might get you a discount on something, but this is a much better use. “Or you could sell me this little dear, and tell me the current address of whoever you sold the other one to!” Just to add insult to injury, you put on your best, most domineering ‘lawsuits will fly’ face and add. “ _Your choice.”_

As you walk out of the store carrying a less teary, more curious troll in your arms and unclipping the leash (but leaving the collar; you’ve got to keep her safe), you smile conspiratorially and wink down at her.   
“Hook, line, and sinker, Nepeta, he bought it much more than I could ever buy you. Let’s go find your friend."


	3. Trying

Nothing’s working.   
You’re not sure why nothing’s working, though. You know she’s blind. You’re not even trying to present anything to those burned sclera; that would be an even more lost cause. But she won’t look up. Won’t stand, won’t talk, and won’t play or listen to you or eat. You can’t have done anything wrong, right?   
You sigh, flopping down next to the troll girl, seeing she must’ve fallen asleep when you were eating dinner or something, as she is definitely now, curled up in the same red dress that does little to compliment the muted teal-tinted scales of her velociraptor-like legs and tail. It’d been a day, all said, and most of that time had been spent with her face buried in your green pillow. She must’ve had a thing for the color green, you figure.  
Dammit, wasn’t a pet supposed to help with your depression? Y’know, comfort you, make you excited to get out of the house, be happy when you got home, shit like that? Not… be. You have toys for her. Shit, you even have got her a crappy first generation iPhone. (Being a professional maid, even a good one, doesn’t pay very well, but it does get you a pretty big circle of friends, one of whom had an old castoff from her daughter).  
In any case, you’re tired as hell. It was a long-ass shift, and you need to relax. And should probably eat. But eating’s for squares, and there’s a little girl-y shaped thing on the other side of the bed next to you. So instead you just… kinda… reach out and… cuddle her. God, she’s warm. Her short-cut hair is all in her face, though, and you brush it off to find tears. Well, that has to have been some damn quiet crying. Except when as you watch, her eyes leak a little more; sad dream, probably.  
-  
When you wake up, she’s gone. You check your crappy Hello-Kitty watch, and see you’ve got a couple hours ‘til class. And you’re hungry, of course. But troll takes precedence, whenever you feel up to getting up. Maybe you’ll take some of your dwindling supply of meds as well, or maybe-  
Hang on, you just heard something. And there it goes again. Listening actively now, you remain semi-curled on the bed. After a few seconds, you hear it a third time: A series of tentative, almost furtive thumps, followed by the soft creak of a light step on your shitty, carpeted floor. The hell?   
Well, it seems to be getting closer. You suppose you’ll just wait…  
You drifted off a moment, but now you’re awakened by someone lifting your arm, specifically the troll girl. You remember now that her name was Terezi. Terezi Terezi Terezi. You’ve got to remember that. What would a blind girl be doing trying to wander around your house? And why on earth was she holding a coat hanger? You don’t say anything, though, noting it’s been about 10 minutes on your watch as she… crawls into your embrace?  
You didn’t think she’d noticed that you were awake, but as you’re about to fall asleep for a third time, she murmurs something.  
“I see why you only got me…” it seems so… exhausted, defeated, and more than a little in need of affection. You think idly that you can relate as you rub her tummy, and she continues. “You’re poor. I ate some of those green things in your fridge because they smelled salty, and you lose salt when you’re crying, right?”  
And now you’re curious. Why is she so talkative all of a sudden? You’d tried cuddling before. And how did she know you were poor? How did she even know what money was? But you don’t ask that. You can’t help but be just a little amazed, in fact, at this little creature you brought into your home and let destroy a quarter of your favorite quilt. “Yeah, you do…” You answer after several seconds, free hand moving thoughtlessly to stroke the little girl’s surprisingly soft hair. “Don’t feel bad about eating. We all have to…”  
“You said your name was Aradia, right?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Can you be my friend now, Aradia?”  
“Yes.”


End file.
